


What You Need to Know About Vinyl

by anonymous_sibyl



Category: Stephanie Plum - Evanovich
Genre: Character of Color, Female Friendship, Female Protagonist, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-02
Updated: 2007-08-02
Packaged: 2017-10-03 23:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymous_sibyl/pseuds/anonymous_sibyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was surrounded by breasts. Big ones, barely covered in vinyl, smelling vaguely of powder and chili dogs. I guess the good thing was I knew who those breasts belonged to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You Need to Know About Vinyl

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [anna's probably just a little tacky post-kerfluffle multifandom inter-racial ficathon](http://annavtree.livejournal.com/223390.html).
> 
> This work is licensed under a [Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License](http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/us/). None of the media or characters written about in my fanfiction belong to me and I make no profit from these works. 

I was surrounded by breasts. Big ones, barely covered in vinyl, smelling vaguely of powder and chili dogs. I guess the good thing was I knew who those breasts belonged to.

"Jesus, Lula, get off! You're smothering me!"

"I used to make good money at that." Lula leaned back as best she could. "Used to have me a regular come 'round wanting to bury his face in my titties until he couldn't breathe. Pervert." She paused and considered this. "Least it gave me a chance to rest."

Lula used to be a hooker working a corner on Stark Street. She nearly got killed for talking to me, and ever since then she's been changing her ways. Most recently she's been singing with Salvatore "Sally" Sweet, but since that doesn't pay much she works with me.

We're bounty hunters. Most days it's easy, find an FTA—Failure To Appear—then bring them to reschedule their court date. Most of them go relatively quietly, sometimes stopping for doughnuts on the way, but some of them really don't want to appear in court.

Ronnie Litvak really didn't want to appear in court. He'd zapped me with my own stun gun, then when Lula came to see what was taking so long he zapped her too. Now here we were, trussed up like a pair of prize idiots on the floor of his apartment.

"Thought you said he was ninety-five," Lula said.

"Years and pounds." Damn this was humiliating.

Mr. Litvak was also a veteran of more than a few wars, so he told me, and judging by how he handled my stun gun he wasn't lying.

Lula let me fiddle with our bindings for a good ten minutes before she spoke. "You gonna call Morelli?"

She meant Joe Morelli, my sort of boyfriend, cop, and person who most delighted in my humiliations. "No."

"Ranger?"

I didn't even bother answering that one. This was way beneath the notice of RangeMan Security. Besides, Ranger would most likely throw around enough bondage innuendo to get me all stirred up, and cradled between Lula's big thighs was not a place where I wanted that to happen.

"No," I said, forestalling her next question. "You can't call Tank."

"Not like we can reach a phone anyways," she said, "but I was hoping you had one of those surveillance things in your panties again."

"That was one time!"

I scraped my nail against the duct tape. All I did was ruin a good manicure. I sighed. If Rex were here he could chew through the tape. I said as much and Lula's eyes widened.

"You got a hamster in your panties? Even I never done nothing that kinky." I could feel her chewing her lip as she mused on this. "Bet Vinnie has, though."

Vinnie Plum, my cousin, our boss, bail bond agent and pervert. He probably had.

I turned my head and a breast caught me full in the mouth. "Oomph."

"Sorry."

Lula twisted around until both breasts were to the side of my head. This gave me a face full of armpit and explained the smell of powder. "Thank god for long lasting deodorant," I said.

"Your hair is tickling my nose." Lula rubbed her nose on her shoulder. "It gets all big and puffy in the humidity. You really ought to do something about that." She sneezed and apologized. "You don't see my hair doing that. I got some product you can use. We'll talk when we get out of here."

Lula's hair was currently bleached platinum blonde and cut and straightened to the same boar bristle style she had when I first met her on Stark Street. She said it got too hot under the wigs she and Sally wore to perform. I suggested she cut it down to the barest of afros, but she said a black woman of her size needed some of her own hair to offset her assets. Trapped as I was against those assets I couldn't argue that it'd take a great deal to offset them.

This sucked. I was never getting out of here without Morelli or Ranger, or, worse, my mother knowing what a failure I was. I didn't realize I was sniffling until I felt Lula's fingers tapping my lower back in a way that was almost soothing.

"Your hair is very nice," she said. "I like it when you put them rollers in and tease it up. You get some nice height for a white girl."

I did, but that wasn't the point. Any girl who grew up in the burg knew how to give herself an extra five to eight inches in height with the right hair and shoes. Even Grandma Mazur could get four inches taller on a good day and she was nearly as old as Ronnie Litvak.

Comforting done, Lula set herself back to the task at hand. "Okay, Stephanie, how we getting out of here?"

I had no idea. I was getting a blister on my thumb, my nail was breaking, and the sweat from Lula's back where it was exposed between tight halter and tighter shorts was making my hands slippery.

"Maybe you shouldn't wear vinyl," I said. "You could get a yeast infection."

She ignored me. "I guess we could wait until Joyce Barnhardt shows up. She's always trying to steal our FTAs on account of she's a no good ho."

She was. I learned that the day I found Joyce riding my now ex husband on our dining room table. And Lula was either angry at me for insinuating she had a vinyl camel toe—which she did—or all of a sudden tired of being here, because nothing galvanized me like mention of my arch-nemesis finding me in a humiliating position. Well, doughnuts, but since she didn't have any to offer, Joyce it was.

"Then we could go to the bakery and get some doughnuts. Think Joyce'll like them Boston Creams?"

"Great. Now I'm hungry."

"I've been hungry all day." Lula sniffed. "Did you know your hair smells like fruit?"

That was it, we had to get out of here.

"I have a plan," I announced.

"Un huh."

"You're skeptical. I can understand that."

Lula didn't say a word. I heard my stomach growl, hers answer, and decided I better get a move on it. Lula and I were highly motivated by hunger. The threat of imaginary starvation kept us on our toes.

Seeing as how we were tied together, arms around each other's torsos, Lula's legs spread wide on the floor and mine wrapped around her waist, I figured it was either start practicing the Kama Sutra or lie down and roll to Mr. Litvak's kitchen, then hope we could knock over his knife block without stabbing ourselves.

"We could make money doing this," Lula said, after checking to make sure I was still breathing. "Lady wrestling is very popular. Especially if you do it in your bare feet."

"That is disgusting."

"Never said it wasn't. Just said we could make money off it." She sneezed and her body rippled like a tidal wave underneath me. "We got to get your hair out of my face."

Standing up was easier than I thought it would be. Once we'd wriggled to a seated position with Lula's back against the wall she just powered us up. I was always working my thighs at the gym on account of that's where all my fat goes, and I never saw Lula working out at all, so I asked her how she got her legs so strong.

"When you're in the alley you got to be careful not to kneel on nothing bad, so it's better to squat," she said. "If you get what I mean."

I got what she meant, and I got how we were getting a knife from the knife block without using our hands, too.

"I ain't putting nothing that's had no dirty old man hands on it in my mouth."

"You would if he paid you."

"He didn't pay me. He stunned my ass and tied a white girl to my tits."

"It's either that or we walk back to the office like this."

It was ninety degrees outside, Lula weighed well over two hundred and thirty pounds, and she was already sweating like crazy. I knew I had her.

"Fine," she said. "You just watch me and see if you can pick up anything Morelli or Ranger might like."

I wasn't sleeping with both of them, but I saw no reason I shouldn't treat this as a learning experience. Lula pursed her lips around the biggest knife in the block—no sense wasting this on a tinky dink, she told me—and deep-throated it. When she lifted her head clear the knife came with her. She waved it around a bit, this way and that, showing off, before placing the tip gently on the counter and expelling it.

From there it was less than fifteen minutes until we were in Mr. Litvak's bathroom scrubbing sticky tape goo from our wrists.

"We got to bust his ass now," Lula said. "On account of he'll tell everyone what he did to us."

I followed Lula to the kitchen where she stuck her head into the refrigerator, treating me to an up close and personal view of the dark side of the moon.

"What took you so long?" I asked when she finally emerged, a platter of fried chicken in one hand and a drumstick in the other.

"I was hot." She sat down at the kitchen table and told me to join her. "While you were on your phone lying to Morelli about how we were having a great day, I was looking in the old man's bedroom. He left his wallet there, with a big ole wad of cash in it. Way I see it, we have a snack and wait for him to come back. When he does, all unsuspecting like, we take him down."

Not bringing him in would mean we'd have to explain why, and I was not prepared to do that, so after finding some potato salad and beer in the fridge, I sat down to join her.

About an hour later Ronnie Litvak tiptoed in. He didn't make a sound when Lula let loose with her war whoop and pounced on him. He didn't have time. She held his bald egg-shaped head to her breasts while I cuffed his hands behind his back.

"That's how I spent my afternoon, Mr. Litvak," I informed him when I saw that he was twitching. "I know how hard it is to breathe in there. I ought to let Lula keep you there a while longer."

"I keep him here any longer and Mr. Litvak here's gonna make a mess on my shorts," Lula said. "Be easy to clean off the vinyl, though. Wish I'd'a known that years ago."

"Learn something new every day," I said. Every day in the burg, that is.


End file.
